


In A Perfect World

by the_lie_eternal



Category: Poets of the Fall
Genre: AU, Angst, Fear, Mindfuck, angst is my love, fears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 08:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16991397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_lie_eternal/pseuds/the_lie_eternal
Summary: Living in a world where it’s always Monday, one AM and dark, and it’s always pouring where you can feel the weight of a new day rising.





	1. Jani - The Bassist

He never had a certainly good relationship with the night. Every second he had to spend without a light felt like the worst torture on earth he ever had to endure. The fact he still had a walk of 20 minutes in front of him to arrive home didn’t light up his situation. There wasn’t a single human soul in sight, the last person the Bassist met were his colleagues before they all went separate ways.

He was scared. Since childhood, darkness had been his worst enemy, the ongoing fear always present in his life. Nobody understood why the small light had to glow for him to peacefully fall asleep, why he always carried several flashlights with him anywhere he went and why he never left his flat after sundown. This day, it had been different.

The meeting took longer than expected and as the Bassist left the building, sun just left the sky. He could’ve screamed in that moment, how should he get home in time, _in light_.

With quick steps he walked through the abandoned city, counting the street lights. As long as they would lead his way, nothing should happen to him. He prayed. The god of light did not hear him. As if he happened to be in a horror movie, the Bassist blinked and from one second to another every single city light was dark. Panicking, he tried to find a source of light in his pockets but none of them worked. His phone, his flashlights – dead, everything.

He screamed out loud, knees becoming weak and breathing normally was impossible. Was a heart supposed to beat this fast? As he tried to flee he felt like running against an invisible wall, only dragging him further into his misery.

The Bassist ran. He ran and never reached his goal. His beloved light, he never saw it ever again.


	2. Jari - The Drummer

He loved his audience and his audience loved him. Most of the time, the Drummer was found on the streets, groups of people around him, watching him what he could do best – being a street-artist. One magic trick here, another funny sketch there, a child’s laughter, an old man’s smile, the Drummer was in his element. He always wanted to be an entertainer, the king in the spotlight, a hero for people. His life never allowed him to do that and as he decided to give up everything for the showbusiness, he basically gave up a whole life.

He was restless in every second that he couldn’t spend on his well-known spot in the city.

The Drummer always told himself to be addicted to the crowds, to the attention and small fame. Little did he know, all happiness he felt through his life as entertainer relied on the breaking happenings in his childhood. He wasn’t addicted to the fame, he was addicted to the feeling of being loved.

Full of expectations, the Drummer arrived at the spot he knew too well. Usually there were already people waiting for him, just to see his newest jokes and acts. No human soul was seen that day but he blamed it on the weather and built up his usual boxes. Done after a few minutes, still nobody seen near, he sat down on his chair and waited for possible “customers”.

The street was empty, completely empty.

Not even a pigeon, not even a fly was seen.

The Drummer began to tremble. Was there something he had missed? A holiday? A happening? He checked his phone – nothing particular. Where was his audience …

 

A thought crawled into his mind, the people stopped loving him. Love and support, it was gone from one day to another. The Drummer panicked. His heart began beating uncontrollably – faster and faster.

The Drummer tried to breathe but his throat seemed to be clogged all of a sudden. Craving for air he sunk down onto his knees. He couldn’t scream for help.

Not a single human soul was seen.

Not a single human soul could help as the Drummer sunk onto the ground and never stood up ever again.


	3. Marko - The Vocalist

He had always been a man of words. Mainly because he earned a living with the sounds coming out of his mouth. The people loved him, they loved what he said and what he sung. Without his voice his life would be worthless, it wouldn’t make sense anymore.

The vocalist found himself on a walk along the promenade of his hometown, a thing he did almost every evening, so nothing unusual. There was nobody to be seen in the near surroundings, but he didn’t care much about that, as long as he could be alone with his thoughts. The Vocalist however couldn’t get rid of the weird feeling in his stomach he already had back home. The walk didn’t help and it began to be more and more uncomfortable the further he stepped along the waterside.

He began shaking, not feeling any cold at all. For a moment he stopped walking and looked around him before it came over him like a punch in the face. In a split second he rushed over to the barrier and relieved whatever had been in his stomach into the water. The sudden feel of sickness wasn’t the highest concern, though. The Vocalist had to look twice at what he just vomited into the water.

 

Burn    Pain     Sunlight           Fear     Hope   Misery             Life      Death  Darkness

 

The Vocalist had to gulp, his hands firmly folded around the barrier. Did he just … did those words come out of …

A second wave made its way into the waves and as he tried to think out loud, a shock went through his whole body.

There was no sound coming out of his throat. He coughed, he tried every voice exercise he knew and still – nothing. He couldn’t believe what just happened, this had to be a joke. Nobody could … vomit words … a voice.

Even worse, as he tried to grab the thought about a new piece he had earlier, he could not find it. In fact, as he checked the water in disbelief again, words and sentences sounding like a song were shortly visible before disappearing in the waves. His muse, it went with the words.

The Vocalist couldn’t handle this sudden happening and without thinking twice he jumped over the barrier to get back his lost voice in the waves.

That was the last time he saw the world beyond the ocean, never to be ever seen again.


	4. Olli - The Leadguitarist

****

He was always the first to go to when in need of a listening ear. Never has he ever not kept a secret for himself, only rarely has he ever rejected someone wanting to talk with him. The Leadguitarist hated to be busy, to be not there for his friends, for his family, even for strangers.

The bar emptied just a few minutes before closing time and the Leadguitarist was cleaning up the last remaining spaces of his own little kingdom. Just as always the speakers played soft jazz music and he hummed along the melodies for a while until he heard someone rattling the door.

It’s closed, the Leadguitarist stated towards the door but the people in front of it did not care much about it. He found himself set in a scene which could’ve had come from his favorite action movies – two masked persons stormed through the door, guns pointed at him.

They demanded money, expensive stuff, everything that seemed nice enough to sell with high profit. The Leadguitarist agreed, hands raised in the ear, one thought running through his mind in repeat. He had to inform his loved ones – if he doesn’t make it alive out of that situation … leaving without any words maybe had been the worst fear in his life.

Trying to cooperate with the criminals in hope for his life, he showed them where to find what they wanted. While they were busy robbing, the Leadguitarist grabbed his phone.

Letter after the letter his possibly last message found its way on the phone screen, he probably never typed faster his entire life. It was not much he wanted to say, his eyes fixed on the send-button. Just one last tap.

One last tap that became impossible as a loud noise made the Leadguitarist look up before the bullet landed in his chest. With a crack his phone landed on the ground, him next to it, never to be talked to ever again.


	5. Jaska - The Guitarist

Despite his looks, the Guitarist never had been a person of great socializing or crowds. Talking to his friends, he would never stop talking – Talking to strangers, he would never even say a whole sentence. His choice of work may or may not had been wise for his social anxiety – becoming famous was even worse. People knew him but he did not knew them, stepping into the spotlight always caused a war inside of him before he got used to his 15 minutes of fame at every concert he played.

It would had been a relatively short way home after meeting his bandmates as every week. However, the Guitarist chose to visit town before going back into his cave, as his friends called it. He needed new spare strings for his guitarist after endless nights of pure practicing and countless broken hopes and dreams aka guitar strings. He visited his favorite music store, the employees already knew him well enough to not ask awkward questions and quickly he left it again, his bag filled with new strings.

The streets seemed to be less crowded that day, the Guitarist thought as he slowly stepped over the sidewalk. He became suspicious, he knew his town and he knew that on a normal weekday, which it was, the streets should not be this empty.

The Guitarist stopped walking and checked his surroundings. A sudden feel of dizziness hit him and he grabbed his head, seeing black for a moment. Seconds later, hit back in reality he didn’t even dare to open his eyes. He could hear it – better said to say he didn’t hear anything but noises. Slowly he straightened up and looked around himself, standing in a giant crowd of people which seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

He began panicking. Crowds, everything but crowds.

Not thinking straight, the Guitarist rushed against the wall of people in front of him and tried to push his way through the end. He didn’t know that there was no end. Every person he passed made him feel worse and more afraid. All he wanted was to get out. Breathing became harder, the crowd seemed to tighten.

Faces became invisible as black voids, bodies hard as rocks and they seemed to close around him. Then the Guitarist vanished, becoming one with the ocean of souls, never to be free ever again.


	6. Markus - The Keyboardist

He always seemed to be the humblest among his bandmates, always pulling the strings in the back, staying in the shadows. Never has he ever craved for spotlight, he always pushed the others into the front to work in the back.

He did not want much attention and most of all as less people as possible around him as all he didn’t want people to know was his horrible fear of himself – certainly seeing himself.

As almost every day, the Keyboardist found himself going to his work early in the morning, only a handful of people to be seen on his walk – the perfect situation for him.

With his favorite music on both ears he stepped through the almost seemingly abandoned town, already used to wander his gaze avoiding any shop windows and every kind of reflections. The times when his friends and colleagues made fun of him luckily were set in the past – their studio had an own bathroom with no mirrors in it, all of his dearest knew and avoided any reflections for the Keyboardist to be visible.

It wasn’t possible for him to explain to every single person he ever met his problem, he purely relied on luck and hopes, that he wouldn’t see his own face in a reflection one day.

On half the way, the Keyboardist began to feel uncomfortable. It felt as if someone or something took control of his body. Don’t look into a reflection. Don’t look. Don’t.

In a reflex he closed his eyes, shutting them so tightly together that it began to hurt. For probably more than a few minutes, he stood there in darkness before he was sure no reflection was in front of him to look at. Slowly he opened his eyes and all he saw was a pair of feet in front of him. Was that a person? No, those were the Keyboardist’s shoes.

Oh no.

He began running into the opposite direction but slammed right into a seemingly wall.

The moment the Keyboardist looked into his own eyes … and found himself surrounded by countless mirrors, not a single way out to be seen. A horrible pain ran through his body, he began to unconsciously scream. He felt as if his body was crushed together, he was killed by his own hands, by hundreds of reflections he saw.

And where the Keyboardist had been seen in thousands of shards, none of him was ever seen again.


	7. Sunrise

Each of them woke up soaked in sweat as their eyes shut open.

A dream?

Only a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Try to sue me for this ending.


End file.
